Tell Me I'm An Angel
by TheDancingBerry
Summary: Endeavor spent years trying to mold his son Shouto into the worlds number one hero. Unfortunately, his training worked too well. (WARNING: darkfic.)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

 **Kick Me Like a Stray**

The hero scrambles down the alleyway, his fingers scrabbling uselessly against the concrete as I advance towards him. His breathing is ragged and panicked. Blood is pouring from his arm where a dagger punctured his costume, and small lacerations crisscross his face. Finally, his arm gives out and he collapses, his nose smashing painfully against the pavement. He struggles to flip over, his face drawn and ragged. "Please!" he screams, scooting backwards as quickly as possible, "You don't have to do this!"

* * *

 _You don't have to do this._

 _You didn't have to do that._

 _You didn't have to. . ._

* * *

". . .hit so hard," I mewled, doubled over, clutching at my stomach in pain. "It hurts, Daddy."

My father looms above me, his shadow great and terrible, like a monstrous dragon. I can't look up. It hurts to try.

"'You didn't have to hit so hard'", he says, his voice dripping with disgust, "do you hear yourself, boy?"

A foot lands in my side, sending me sprawling. I squeal in pain. " _Daddy!_ "

"Shut up," my father says. "How do you expect to become a hero, if you act like this when you're hurt?"

A rough hand grabs my neck, forces me into an upright position. My fathers face is inches from mine, a look of disappointment written on it. "Villains will _not_ ," he growls, spattering my face with saliva, "care if you're huwt or tiwed or sad or hungwy."

I tremble, my hands clutched into fists. "Sorry, Daddy."

He tosses me gently onto the practice mat. " _Sorry isn't good enough_."

* * *

I step closer to the hero. He tries to kick me, but I easily sidestep it. "You're wrong," I say softly, my voice carrying through the quiet alleyway. "I do have to do this."

A blade of ice forms in my hand, while more ice comes from my foot, freezing him in place. "Because you are part of the system."

I raise my blade; tears form in his eyes.

"The _system_. The institution of pro heroes."

He's muttering to himself. Praying.

"The blight on our society. The cancer that has infected us for generations. You are a part of a virus."

I bring my blade closer, next to his exposed throat. If I were a dishonest man, I would say that the terror in his eyes wasn't fascinating. Wasn't utterly intoxicating.

"You and those like you are a sickness. And I am the cure."

* * *

 _Tragedy struck yesterday, when the body of pro hero Manual was discovered in an alleyway off the Tatooin shopping district. Although investigators have no confirmation, they believe this is the work of the infamous Hero Killer, Permafrost. We'll keep you updated as the story breaks._

The radio crumbles into dust, disintegrating under his touch.

"You've gotten sloppy."

I shrug, adjusting my mask. "Not sloppy. Sloppy is a mistake."

He chuckles dryly, his raspy voice turning the sound nightmarish. "Right, I forgot. You're on a _mission_."

I sit at the bar stool next to him, and Kurogiri hands me a glass. Water. Alcohol and sugar impact your combat ability. "Don't mock me, Tomura-chan."

He chuckles again. "I'm the only one who _can_."

It's true. Only Shigaraki Tomura would ever dare speak to me so freely, so bravely, and so sarcastically. Everyone else is either too afraid or too dead to try. Which is the way I prefer things. It allows me to focus on who I am. What I do. My mission.

Because I am Todoroki Shouto. And I kill heroes.

* * *

 **A short chapter, way shorter than my usual, but eh. Story takes precedence over word count. Chapter 2'll prolly be longer.**

 **Anyway, if you have any opinions about this chapter, please review! I hope you enjoyed it!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

 **We All Fall Down**

From up here, I can see the whole city. It sprawls out beneath me, a vast mechanical construct, with cars and people the blood that gives it an appearance of life. But the city isn't alive; it simply looks that way. It's a massive, indifferent, uncaring, unliving, undying organism. A clockwork orange. The city judges lives and deaths in terms of dozens, hundreds, thousands.

One does not matter.

* * *

"Stupid fuckin' Deku!"

He slams his hand onto my desk; the nitroglycerin in his palm ignites. The desk goes one way, I go another. I scrabble backwards, away from him. "C-c'mon, Kacchan! This isn't a-about you!"

He steps closer, his face twisted in a cruel sneer. Tiny explosions go off in his palms, and he glares down at me. I try to shrink further into myself, but it's no use. I can never escape Kacchan. His shadow falls across me, and I can _feel_ his gaze burning into me. "The hell do you mean, it isn't about me? We're trying to get into the same school, _of course_ it's about me."

"Y-yeah," I say, lifting my head slightly, trying to meet his red gaze. I fail, and settle my eyes on his chin. "I'm _trying_. That's all! I just-" my breaths are coming too quickly now, shakily, "I j-just wanna try and be a hero, Kacchan. I just wanna do some good in the world. That's all."

He snorts disdainfully. "Please, Deku. If you wanted to 'do some good' you'd fling your sorry ass off a building and stop stealing oxygen from the rest of us."

My eyes fill with tears and I struggle to my feet. He watches as I gather my bags and walk away, still smirking. As I reach the door, I pause, not wanting him to have the last word. "Yunno, Kacchan, I-I may never b-b-be a hero." I gulp down my nerves and tears, keeping my voice steady. "But you'll never be a-anything but a dick."

I walk away, quickly as I can, as he starts yelling at my back.

* * *

The wind whips through my hair and roars in my ears as I survey the city. One life-one _Quirkless_ life, one _weak_ life, one _worthless_ life-doesn't matter.

I plant my feet on the edge of the building.

No turning back now.

I swallow my wild nerves, trying to uncloud my mind, to lift my foot and just plummet. But I can't. _I can't even kill myself properly._

For some reason, that thought makes me laugh. And as the laughter chases away my nerves, I realize that I don't even need to step off: I can simply tip forward and get the exact same end result. I take several deep breaths, clearing my head, and slowly lean forward, eyes wide open. I can at least be strong enough to watch my end coming. I feel my heels separating from the edge of the roof, and the wind ceases just a bit. I continue to fall, as though in slow motion, and when I'm just hanging onto the edge of the building by my toes, a thought strikes me like a lightning bolt.

 _I don't want to live._

 _I don't want to die._

My serene heartbeat accelerates quickly, and I suddenly realize _I'm going to die_. I scream as loudly as I can, desperate, hoping some hero will catch me, save me.

Just as my toes are about to leave the building, I halt, and the neck of my shirt is suddenly uncomfortably tight against my throat. I breathe wildly, choking, as I'm hauled backwards, off the edge of the roof, and a pair of arms encircle me and drag me back. When we're several feet away from the roof, my rescuer drops me. I hunch over, head between my knees, staring at the rooftop, feeling little trickles of wet heat make their way down my nose. Footsteps crunch on the roof, and I can barely see a pair of black boots step in front of me.

"Are you okay?"

My near-death slips to the back of my mind as soon as my mysterious rescuer speaks. He-it's gotta be a he, unless she has a Quirk or something that makes her voice deep-sounds young, not much older than me, so he's probably a new hero, and speaks in a near-monotone, which is odd, and oddly reassuring. He sounds calm, and that helps me to gather my composure. I raise my eyes, staring at his boots. "Y-yeah. I'm fine."

"Can you fly?"

The question takes me by surprise, and I frown at his feet. "Well, no."

"If you're fine, why were you trying to kill yourself?"

I open my mouth, but am unable to make any sound besides a tinny whimper. Tears drip onto the roof under my eyes, staining the white concrete. I hear my rescuer sigh, and see his now-blurry legs bend as he sits in front of me. Absently, I note that he's wearing black pants as well. "I'm sorry," he says, somewhat softer than before, "that was insensitive. Do-" he pauses, sounding somewhat unsure, "-do you want to talk about it? I hear that helps."

I choke out a brief laugh-it's not my fault, he's clearly new at this, and very awkward-and find my voice again. "I'd really rather not."

I hear him sigh, and feel him lean in towards me. "Hey. Look at me."

I do; it seems impolite not to, considering he's the only reason I'm still alive. As I raise my head, my eyes travel over his body, instinctively taking in all the details. He's dressed mostly in black-his boots and pants are pure black, as is the glove on his left hand. However, a white "X" crisscrosses his torso (the costume is, I notice, skintight), and his right hand is gloved in white. But nothing prepares me for his face-or rather, what's over it. He wears a black hood, connected to his costume's torso, and over his face a mask. The mask is utterly blank, with no decorations or insignia. The only truly distinctive thing about it is the coloration: the right side is white, the left is bloodred.

After I absorb his outfit, I meet his eyes, which show through the tiny holes in his mask, and nearly gasp aloud. His right eye is a deep, stormy grey, while his left is a piercing electric blue. I open my mouth and find myself unable to speak again. He tilts his head slightly. "Why were you trying to kill yourself? I won't let you leave until you tell me."

I take a shuddering breath, feeling my eyes sting again. "What do I have to live for?"

"Do you have any family? Anyone at all?"

A wave of guilt hits me, and a fresh sob escapes my lips. "T-there's my m-mom. . .oh God. . ."

He nods slightly. "I assume she'd miss you?"

I can't answer-I'm too busy biting my knuckle to keep from sobbing loudly. He lays a hand on my shoulder and gently squeezes. "So why did you come up here?"

I swallow down my sobs and force myself to answer. "I-I-I can't do anything. I c-c-can't be. . ."

"Be what?"

I cry again, hiccuping and crumpling into myself. "A-a hero. I c-can't be a hero."

He tilts his head again. "Why not?"

"I-" I can't answer, can't reveal my weakness, but I have to, "-I'm Quirkless."

"That's a pretty awful reason to kill yourself. You can't be a pro hero, but you can still be a _hero_. You don't need powers for that."

I laugh bitterly, thinking of Kacchan, and of the villain I saw on the way to school this morning, and of the video of All Might hauling those people from that fire. "C-can you t-tell that to K-Kacchan?"

"Who's Kacchan?"

"My. . ." I pause, suddenly aware that I'm not entirely sure what Bakugou Katsuki actually is to me. ". . .my friend?"

"You don't sound too sure of that," my rescuer says. I shift uncomfortably under his gaze, trying to come up with a satisfactory answer.

"Well. . .he. . .we. . ." I itch at my scalp, mind racing and aching. My rescuer tilts his head towards me while I mumble and fidget, before finally speaking again.

"Did he tell you to come up here?"

"I. . ." I finally drop my gaze from his, hanging my head again, as tears prick up in my eyes once more. I choke out my answer, speaking in a raspy whisper. "Yeah."

"Pretty awful friend."

I laugh bitterly, not bothering to wipe the tears away. "Yeah."

He squeezes my shoulder again, gently, and I slowly raise my head to meet his gaze. His mismatched eyes ( _heterochromia_ , that's what it's called) bore into mine, betraying no emotion. "Does Kacchan plan on being a hero?" he asks, very softly. I nod, and his eyes narrow slightly behind the mask. "I see."

It sounds like there's more he wants to say, but he just stares into my eyes, until I look away. I hear him sigh, and he stands up. I raise my head to look up at him, suddenly realizing my eyes itch horribly. He's staring down at me, and in his black suit, backlight by the late-afternoon sun, he looks like some sort of dark angel. He extends his white-gloved hand, and I gently, almost reluctantly, take it, and allow him to haul me to my feet. When I stand up, I realize that my eyes are only about as high as his chin, so I look upwards to meet his eyes once more. The corners lift somewhat as he looks at me, and I try to smile back.

"Will you be okay? Can you get home?" he asks, and I dimly notice that he hasn't let go of my hand. I nod slowly, and he gently releases my hand, slipping his fingers from mine. "Okay."

I slowly turn around to walk to the roof access door (this building is never locked, something I've discovered recently), and pause before I grab the knob. I slowly turn again, facing my rescuer, who's standing still, watching me. He tugs at his black glove. "Is there something else?"

"I. . ." I choke on my words again, but force them out, ". . .thank you."

He inclines his head at me again. "My pleasure. But please, don't try that again. I can't save you every time."

"I won't," I say, meaning it as a joke. A pathetic joke, sure, but a joke. Instead, it sounds sincere, even to me. "I promise."

"Good."

I take a deep breath, steeling my nerves. I have a question that needs asking.

"So. . .w-what's your name?"

My rescuer just stares at me, unblinking. After a long, uncomfortable moment, I hear him sigh again. "Private. Meaning, I'm not telling you."

"Oh," I reply, disappointed. "Well, uhm. . .mine's Midoriya. Midoriya Izuku."

He starts walking away, towards the edge of the building, but turns to face me once he reaches it. "Nice to meet you, Midoriya-san. I wish it were under better conditions." He pauses, adjusting the hood of his outfit against the wind. "Now go home."

I get the sense that he's entirely willing to stand there, staring at me, until the world ends, if I don't do what he says. So I wave good-bye and turn to walk away, opening the roof door and slowly walking back home, away from the mysterious hero.

* * *

 **Wooo this took 5-evah. I've been going back to school, which is always nice and convenient and great for writing. Also, shout-out to my awesome betareader, IJustWantToWriteAGoodStory! U rok! MCR rox!**

 **Also also, check out Nilicas story "A Part of Me" if ya want some damn good TodoDeku.**

 **Anyway, please drop a review and tell me what you thought!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

 **Better Run Like The Devil**

I watch Midoriya go, glad that he's not going to try and wrestle my name or identity out of me. He wouldn't be able to, but trying would've been very irritating. His head hangs low, and anger bubbles up in my chest.

 _Kacchan_

 _tell you to come up here_

 _plan on being a hero_

I feel sick, disgusted to my core, at this Kacchan. How can anyone seeking to be a hero, a defender of the weak, target someone weaker than them and bully them into nearly killing themselves?

Before I know what I'm doing, I'm following Midoriya, sticking to the shadows, remaining unseen. He doesn't need to know that I'm watching him. That I'm protecting him. And he definitely doesn't need to know that I'm intent on finding this Kacchan, and teaching him what it means to be a hero. I'm not going to kill him. But I am going to scare him. There's still a chance he could change his ways.

Midoriya turns right down a mostly-empty street. I'm to backtrack and find a new pathway to reach the end of the street and intercept him. I nearly trip over a couple of rats

* * *

I'm watching with my one good eye, as they eat from the dumpster behind our house. They're fascinating little things, so disgusting and yet so persistent.

Like my father, I think with a giggle. The door behind me creaks, and I turn quickly, trying to hide my eye. "I'm okay!"

My mother smiles a little bit at me, tucking her beautiful white hair behind her ears. Her smile lights up the room, and for just a moment I actually believe that I'm okay. She walks to my bed, her pale skirt flowing in the air currents, and sits next to me. She has a tube of ointment in her hand. "Let me see, Shouto."

"I swear, I'm fine! You don't need to. . ."

She grabs my chin and twists my head to face her, while her other hands pulls mine away from my blackened eye. She smiles again, like she's hiding something behind her teeth, and gently rubs the ointment on my bruise. I sigh as it numbs the area, soothing the pain away, and eventually the bruise too. When she's done, she pulls me in and kisses my forehead. "All better."

I smile up at her and lean into her shoulder. She reaches across me and rubs my back gently. I sigh happily again and lean up to kiss her cheek. "I love you, Mom."

She swallows hard and leans her head against mine. "I," her voice sounds muffled, "I love you too, baby boy." Then, she pulls me into a tight hug, like she's trying to hide me from the whole world. "My sweet little Shouto." Something wet lands on my cheek and rolls down. "Never let him beat your heart out, you hear me?"

I snuggle in closer to her as more tears roll down her face onto my hair. "I hear you, Mom."

* * *

that skitter away as I approach. I clamber over a ladder onto a rooftop and scan the area for Midoriya. His hair is very distinctive, so I locate him quickly and pursue. Jumping across rooftops.

Badass.

Midoriya is headed for an apartment complex, places that generally masked strangers to run around freely. I clamber to the top of another building, tall enough to keep an eye on him while I quickly remove my costume. In the inner pocket is my stealth gear. Civilian clothes. Red hairspray. Scar concealant that Tomura-chan got me. I quickly slap it on, using a small hand-mirror to check my work, and head to the back of the building. Luckily, there's a ladder, otherwise I would've had to create one from ice. I climb down and walk around to building to the apartment complex, and get halfway across the street before I realize something.

I have no plan. And there's incoming traffic.

I hurry across the street, flipping the bird to a cabbie who honks wildly at me. The doors automatically slide open as I push through. The lobby of the apartment complex is small, with only an elevator, a bored-looking security guard, and a public bathroom within. I wave at the guard and stride after Midoriya, trying to maintain a confident air. I think it works. He steps into the elevator, I go in the adjacent one. We ride up to the fifth floor; I wait twelve seconds before I disembark from the lift. Midoriya is walking down the hall, clutching at his arms. He pauses before one door, wipes away his remaining tears and enters. I follow him down the hall, examining the doors on either side, hoping to find clues as to who Kacchan is.

 _If you nip it in the bud, it won't bear fruit._

One door reads "Omashu". The other-"Bakugo".

I sigh internally, frustrated. No help here. I walk to the end of the hallway, fling the window open, and clamber out, using my ice to form handholds.

I need to speak with Sensei.

* * *

 **Christ on a bike, this took forever and I don't know why.**

 **Anyway-please review! Even if it's negative, I love hearing your thoughts.**


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